This Crazy Little Thing Called Love
by Claude Lawless
Summary: It swings, it jives, and should mean never having to say you're sorry. Unfortunately for Brook, apologizing to a jilted woman is hard on an island where "love" is just a word that musicians use as a crutch when they can't think of anything else. Sequel to "Dancing With the Dead."


**L/N: Good evening people, welcome to the show! Got something here that I want you all to know. When awesome writing brings a happy squeal, the author wants to know just what it was that made it ideal, so review it! Don't screw it!**

* * *

_You got me n__ever knowing_

_ if I'm coming or going,_

_but I, __I love you_

_This old heart, darlin', is weak for you!_

- The Isley Brothers

"This Old Heart Of Mine"

* * *

The box wasn't that heavy, but the fact that its contents hadn't stop moving since he had picked it up was getting to be extremely tiring.

Brook sighed. He stopped and lifted the lid a bit. "I know you're cold," he said. "I am too. But if you keep squirming around like that, I might drop you."

The box ceased shaking, and he continued on. The stairs were steep and covered with snow that hid patches of ice and he didn't want to take any chances with his package. He had slipped once before, and that had a domino effect that was minor disaster in and of itself. He shuddered, trying not to think about what would happen if it happened again.

He was so focused on trying not to step on an ice patch that it only seemed natural the foot on the previous step fly out from under him as he raised the other one. He fought the urge to curse.

In a moment of quick thinking that surprised even him, he placed the box on the next stair and used the momentum to push himself over it in a bizarre somersault the resulted in him landing flat on his back, staring up at the light gray sky.

"How the hell did you do that?"

Brook tipped his head back. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Atl Jack, a bright yellow butterflyfish fishman. He was a pianist and a singer, though he was probably more famous for who he was married to than for his talents. Normally unflappable, his eyes were wide and his jaw was hanging open in a look of utmost confusion.

"I was just trying to figure that out myself," he said, somewhat dazed.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

"No."

"You, sir, just fell up my goddamn stairs."

Brook paused as he turned himself so that his feet were beneath him. "I did?"

"You did." Jack shook his head and crossed his arms. "First you make dominoes out of me and the girls, and now you fall up the stairs," he said. "What is it with you and stairs, man?"

"I haven't the slightest idea." Brook opened the lid of the box. "It just keeps happening." There seemed to be no damage to its contents. He gave a sigh of relief as he stood up, silently thanking whatever deity was listening.

"I bet it's your shoes. Way too much heel for a dude."

"I thought you liked my shoes."

"I do, most of the time. I'm pointing out a safety hazard."

"You don't seem to mind when the girls wear heels."

"That's because they make it look good," Jack said. "And they don't crash land nearly as often as you do."

"Have you seen Anya after 5 o' clock on a Saturday night?"

"Yeah, but she has the excuse of being completely and utterly tanked."

"Good point."

"What's in the box?"

"A present."

"For...?"

"Who else?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "That's an awful big box for something that small," he said.

"Yes, bu-" Brook turned to him. "Did you mean that literally, or are you just being mean?"

"If I said literally, what would you do?"

"I would tell you that the gift in my box is different from the one I showed you."

"Oh. Okay. Because I've tried the 'giant box tiny gift' thing. It's only funny for about five minutes," Jack said. Brook stifled an 'oof' as he clapped him on the back. "But I'm sure she would've laughed. C'mon, let's go inside."

They reached the door just as it started to snow. It drifted down to the ground in large clumps. Brook thought it would be good for sledding on. He added it to his mental list of things he had to do tomorrow, between 'sleep in just because' and 'make awesome snowman.'

Jack paused before he opened the door. "Oh, a word of warning, by the way," he said. "My son thought it would be funny if he hung mistletoe from the door frame."

"Which one?"

His voice was grim. "All of them."

Brook added 'strategically place mistletoe' to his list.

* * *

"C'mon, what's in the box?" Catherine was bouncing on her toes in anticipation. Her puffy blonde hair went up and down in time with her bouncing.

"Patience, Catya," Brook said. "Just give me a moment with my things."

"Fine, Mom." She rolled her eyes. "I just want to know why you have to hide it in a coat closet."

Anastasia drained her the last of her martini with one long swill. "Little sister, I will bet you anything that it's lingerie," she said.

"He's not that depraved. And we're twins."

She ignored the last sentence. "Maybe, maybe not. But he's still a man, and the eighth law of men is that they will do damn near anything if it means they get to see their lady in skimpy clothing."

Catya frowned. "I thought the eighth law of men was be prepared to be a punchline."

"No, that's the first law of comedians and the second law of musicians."

Brook cocked his head. "What's the first one?"

"I can't say it with one in the room." She flashed a mischievous smile at him.

He placed the box on a table and removed the cover. The two women were transfixed as Brook carefully lifted the tiny cream-colored creature out of the box and placed it on the table. "Sorry you were in there so long," he said. It looked around, its blue eyes wide.

"Omigod." Catya had her hands over her mouth.

"That's a..." Anya's shocked stare kept flickering from it to Brook, like she was trying to connect the two in her mind.

"A kitten." Brook lightly rubbed between its ears. "She's the reason why I couldn't be here sooner." He couldn't help but puff out his chest a bit. Anya was hard to impress, let alone be struck speechless. If he could blow _her_ away, there was a definite chance that its intended recipient would be absolutely ecstatic.

Catya let out a deafening squeal, making everyone else jump. "She's so cute!" She knelt down in front of it. It mewed softly and sniffed her before touching her nose with a chocolate-colored paw. "Aw, she booped me!"

Brook laughed as she squealed again. "Did either of you happen to bring the ribbon I asked for?"

"Right here," Anya said. She reached into the her coat pocket and pulled out a stretch of ribbon and a pair of small scissors. "You don't mind periwinkle, do you? Because that was the only color I could find on a short notice." She gingerly wound a piece around the kitten's neck, tying it into a bow.

"Oh, you are just the most precious little thing!" Catya cooed. It mewed again in response. "And a very chatty little kitty."

"Make it stop being cute, or else I'll drop dead from an overdose of adorable," Anya said.

"I might too, even though-" Before Brook could finish, the elder twin's face lit up as if she had remembered something important. "Is there something wrong?"

She pursed her lips and brought her middle and index fingers to her mouth. "Shoosh," she said. She then pressed them to his. "Your face."

He sighed, and Catya giggled. "So, what was the other thing you wanted us to do?"

"Ah, yes," he said. He took the kitten and gingerly placed her back into the box. "If it's not too much trouble, would either of you mind come in and just check up on her? It's going to be awhile and I don't want her to get uncomfortable."

The twins looked at each other and grinned. "Keeping an eye on the cutest kitten in the world?"

"Sounds like the best job ever."

"We'll do it," they said in perfect unison.

Brook laughed. "Thank you both so much," he said. "I would do it myself, but-"

Anya glared at him. "If you say it, I am gonna-"

"-it would look suspicious if I kept coming in here every fifteen minutes."

She continued to glare at him. Her sister giggled. He was about to do the same when the door opened and a woman with dark brown skin poked her head inside. Her long white hair was pulled into a loose ponytail.

"Oh, there you guys are," she said. "In case you guys hadn't noticed, the party's out here."

Catya grinned. "Just having a little powwow."

"Aw, without me?" She stuck out her lip and widened her eyes in an exaggerated pout.

"It's a private powwow. Only size four and under allow-" Catya elbowed her sister, cutting her off.

"They were trying to figure out what I bought for you," Brook said.

"I don't suppose they've figured it out yet, then?"

He shook his head. "They aren't even close."

It was quick, but he caught Anya's wink. "Liar," she said, crossing her arms. "I totally guessed it five minutes ago."

"You most certainly did not."

"I most certainly did too."

"How, then?"

"It's quite simple, really." She shrugged. "He'd be in real deep shit if he bought lingerie for anyone else."

Brook's jaw dropped. He tried to protest, but he could only manage an indignant squeak. Anya gave him a devilish grin as Catya unsuccessfully tried to stifle her giggles.

Sasha's looked at him, her eyes wide. "You did not. Tell me you didn't."

Anya answered for him. "Panties and a garter belt. Both very ribbon-y. Might've been a corset in there, too."

Brook finally found his voice. "I did not buy lingerie!" he said.

"You thought about it."

"Well, yes, but..." He crossed his arms, extremely flustered. "I didn't actually do it!"

"You're a lying liar who lied."

"I most certainly did not!"

"You most certainly did too." she said. "And I've got proof."

Very slowly, she pulled out the remainder of the ribbon out of her pocket, a large, toothy grin of pure evil plastered across her face. She pulled the edges a few times, snapping it loudly.

"Periwinkle," she crooned.

He sighed as the trio started laughing hysterically. He rubbed his forehead, making a mental note to never ask Anya for help with anything ever again.

* * *

The two lovers were sitting on the floor, their backs against the sofa and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They would have gotten up and moved somewhere more comfortable, but they were tired after a long day, and the kitten had made itself comfortable in her lap.

"Have you thought of a name for her?" Brook asked.

"The only thing I can think of is Jasmine," Sasha said. The kitten's ears pricked up as she spoke. She turned to look at them, meowing loudly.

He laughed. "Well, that takes care of that." Brook scratched Jasmine behind the ears. "You have a very pretty name, my dear," he said. She rubbed against his fingers, purring.

"She sounds like a motor." Sasha watched as she jumped onto the sofa and curled up. "And she's quick. Perhaps 'Engine' would suit her better," she said.

"I think Jasmine is just fine."

"Well, I can't think of anything else, so Jasmine it is," she said. She laid her head against his chest. "I was going to name my daughter that, you know."

"Engine?"

"No, silly." She elbowed him playfully. "Jasmine."

"It's a good name for something so pretty," Brook said. He turned to her. "You look like a Jasmine, now that I think about it."

She wrinkled her forehead and tipped her head to the side, looking for all the world like a confused puppy. "I do? Why?"

"Jasmine has an exotic quality about it, just like you. It would only be natural that the two would belong to the same person."

"That...sort of makes sense, I guess," she said. Her bemused look remained.

He laughed. "Of course, appearance means nothing. It's your heart that really counts." He tried to poke her chest, but she grabbed his wrist and gently shook it.

"I know what you're going to say," she teased as she waved it back and forth. "So just say it and be done with it."

"Say what?"

She huffed in mock irritation. "You know what, you silly goose," she said.

"No, really. I have no idea what you're talking about, Sasha."

She made a grab for his other hand. He pulled it out of the way, making her reach for it. She stretched as far as she could, but without anything to support her weight, she toppled over, dragging him with her. They landed on their sides with a loud thud and a clatter.

"Ouch," he said.

"Are you alright?"

"I think I bruised my shoulder."

"Let me kiss it. I'll make it better."

She was about to sit back up when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him, placing his head just behind hers. She snuggled into his embrace, intwining her legs with his.

He knew she'd think he was rubbing her neck when she felt his fingers drag across it. His hands were trembling like leaves, causing him to fumble with the catch several times. He watched her as she rolled the golden chain between her fingers.

"Do you like it?" His voice was barely above a whisper. When she didn't respond, he peered over her shoulder.

She was staring at the pendant in her hand. It was a light blue stone, cut and polished into a round, wide heart. A small gold crown sat at its top, connecting it to the chain. "Why...?"

"There are some things that can't be said about me, but they're the only ways to adequately say it," he said. "So, I bought this." He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. "Now, when I tell you you've stolen my heart, you'll know I'm be dead serious." He laughed softly.

She suddenly flipped over to face him, a smile on her lips. She pulled his head closer until their foreheads touched. She stared at him a moment before placing a kiss on his teeth. He whimpered when she pulled away. and tucked her head under his chin. He combed his fingers through her hair as they laid there, just enjoying each other's company. The sound of her slow, even breathing was the only sound he heard for a long while.

It was the perfect end to a perfect day: he was warm, happy, and he had his arms wrapped around a woman who loved him.

"Brook?"

"Yes, Sasha?"

"Please don't ever buy me a periwinkle corset. They make my butt look bigger than it already is," she said. "Buy me a periwinkle chemise. I'd rock that like you have no idea."

Oh yes. She _definitely_ loved him.

* * *

**L/N: Thank you for readingl! We'll be right back in a few days (I hope. Real life just doesn't understand the importance of _One Piece_ fanfiction.) Also, a big thank you to Lucky Marie for being my idea dartboard. She's cool. Go read her shit.**


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